The Liverpool Trilogy (7 page)

The drama began at about five-thirty in the afternoon. Glenys phoned. ‘Lucy, don’t start panicking, but Paul sank the boat on the Dee. He was plucked out by a couple who were fishing, and he’s in the Countess of Chester hospital. He wasn’t too bad, because he was joking with them about weighing him in as the biggest fish ever caught in those parts. Lucy?’

Lucy’s jaw seemed to have run out of oil, because it took several seconds for her to speak. ‘You sure he’s all right?’

‘Lizzie says he is. It was she who phoned me. She’s at the hospital here in Bolton, because Alan went on a giant bender, and he’s suffered two minor heart attacks this afternoon. Mike’s gone to be with his brother. So. What do we do now?’

Lucy’s front door opened, though she scarcely heard it. ‘I’ll have to go to Chester. I can’t leave my son like that, can I?’

‘No. They’re your weak spot, as I’ve said before, and I’m glad they’re there. Paul’s in no danger, but if his accident brings you to your senses I’ll be glad. It’s about time somebody knocked a bit of grit into you. They’re your children for always, Lucy. When they’re fifty, they’ll still be your babies. Heart attacks aside, you should come clean and sue the bugger.’

The call ended, and Lucy burst into tears. She’d never been much of a weeper, but her little lad had almost drowned, and the shocking news had cut deeply into her maternal core. She hadn’t been there for him, for any of them. Glenys was right, the three of them would be her children until the end of her life. It was nothing to do with age.

‘Lucy?’

She looked up. ‘Richard.’

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ He lifted her from the chair and held her in his arms. ‘Come on, love. Tell your Uncle Richard – I only came in to thank you for straightening out her indoors. What’s happened?’ She felt wonderful, smelled delicious. She wasn’t like his other women, because she would become serious business if anything delightful were to happen.

And it all poured out, half drowned by tears. Her husband wasn’t dead, though he seemed to be working hard to get to the hereafter. Her son was in hospital after an accident on the Dee, while her daughter was with Alan.

‘Your husband?’

She nodded against his shoulder. ‘For twenty years, he— That doesn’t matter now. I have to get to the Countess of Chester hospital. I meant to keep my distance during the divorce, you see. I wanted all the dirt out of the way, but—’

‘But accidents happen. ‘I’ll drive you to Chester.’ It was plain that he intended to take charge. He planted her back in the chair and picked up her phone. He spoke to someone and asked to be put through to Dr Beddows. ‘Charlie? Yes, it’s Rich. Look for a young man name of . . .’ he covered the mouthpiece and waited until Lucy had given the name, ‘Paul Henshaw. Went down with his ship on the Dee. Yes, yes.’ He waited.

Lucy almost smiled. There was none of the captain in Paul, but there was plenty of the comedian in him, just as there was in Richard Turner.

‘Thank you,’ he said before placing the phone in its cradle. ‘Under observation, no apparent damage except to his dignity. He says the effing boat was an effing death trap, and he wants his mother. I shall make sure he gets his mother, though I hold out no hope for the craft. It’s flotsam, I’m afraid.’ Richard went to talk to his wife.

Lucy wiped her face. Twice today she had heard from Glenys. As the lawyer had expected, Tallows was one hundred per cent Lucy’s. So there would be no need to repurchase it, as all fault lay at the door of the building society and at Alan’s feet. Or his hands. His hands had done the forging. She could go home. Did she want to go home? No. She wanted to see her son, and she mustn’t think beyond that.

This second call had frightened Lucy. All three offspring were past the cuts and abrasions that were part and parcel of childhood, yet they remained vulnerable. Now, Alan. Did she care about him? If she didn’t, why was he sitting in the second row of her brain, just inches behind her waterlogged son? Why did the word ‘duty’ remain on her agenda where he was concerned? She would not worry about him, as he wasn’t worth the energy. Heart attacks, though . . .

Richard led her to his car. ‘It won’t take long,’ he assured her. ‘And we know for a fact that he’s in no immediate danger, so don’t worry.’

‘Thank you.’ The man was the embodiment of everything her parents had wished for her, but she had rebelled, and . . . If she hadn’t married Alan, she wouldn’t have had Paul, Michael and Elizabeth. But if she’d married a doctor, her parents would have been pleased, might have lived longer and been a great deal happier.

‘Lucy?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why did you escape? It was an escape, I take it?’

She sighed heavily. ‘I thought they were old enough to manage without me. As for my husband, he’s a fraud, and I was one of his victims. In truth, I was his main victim. He took my money, then mortgaged my family home.’

‘Without permission?’

‘He thought I didn’t know what was going on. I kept quiet for the twins’ and Lizzie’s sake. Alan is an angry man. I didn’t want the children to be caught in a battle. So I came here as soon as they seemed old enough. But I know now that if it all ends up in court, none of us is old enough.’

‘Why here?’

‘A pin in a map. The pin stuck in the Mersey, actually, but this was the nearest land, so here I am. And it’s all going terribly wrong. My bankrupt husband has got himself thoroughly drunk and is in hospital. He’s had two heart attacks, and the next may be his last. If he stops working, he’ll die. If he continues to work, he’ll die, but he’ll be happier.’ She sighed heavily, her breath escaping on a sob that made her shiver.

‘A mess, then.’

‘Yes.’

He parked the car outside the hospital. ‘Lucy, it’s not your mess. It seems that you’ve been the peacekeeping force for long enough. Get a clear idea of what you want from life before starting to cobble together a plan for the man who hurt you, and for children who are grown. Right. I’ll stay here while you visit, then I’m taking you home. It’s time I had a look at your blood pressure. Go on, now. Shoo!’

He watched as she walked away. She was a lovely woman, bright, sweet-tempered and considerate. And she was built like a perfect Venus, good legs, beautiful hair, excellent teeth and . . . Moira was right. It was impossible to describe Lucy without reference to her magnificent bosom. Yet while he and most other men would like to bury their heads in her magnificence, she also brought out the paternal side of him. She needed looking after. But he had never been unfaithful to his wife. Small dalliances didn’t count. As long as he didn’t get involved, he was merely relieving himself of some tensions. This one was different.

Anyway, Lucy, too, was married. He found himself hoping almost desperately that she would not return to Bolton, that she would stay and continue her friendship with Moira, who was definitely benefiting from the new contact. It didn’t matter as much for him, he repeatedly told himself. Moira enjoyed and needed Lucy’s company. And that was all there was to it.

Alan Henshaw, who was a substantial figure of a man, had shrunk considerably. Or perhaps it was all the tubes, wires and machinery that made him smaller. The equipment seemed to be the size of a small symphony orchestra, while the soloist at the centre of it all was diminished by the plethora of pipes and bells with which he was surrounded. His heart was being monitored, and his blood pressure was taken automatically at set intervals. Fluid dripped into his body from above, and trickled out into a bag fastened to the side of his bed. Many of these appliances gave out beeps, alarms and ticking sounds, while the person at the centre of all the drama never so much as blinked.

Freddie Mercury singing ‘I Want to Break Free’ popped into Liz’s head from time to time. Her dad was in there somewhere, and he needed to break free. His stomach had been pumped and, after tests and close examinations, the liver had been declared fit to be used to sole shoes. It didn’t look too promising. She didn’t want Daddy to die.

His nurse, a plain-spoken woman, arrived to make a routine check. ‘Don’t worry, love,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen worse than this walk out on its own two feet after a few days. Mind you, if he doesn’t come off the sauce, he’ll probably bleed to death. Get him to sign into a clinic. He needs weaning off before he goes into a proper nosedive. Cholesterol’s in the hills, heartbeat irregular but settling, and he has a chance if he avoids booze and stress.’

‘Then that’s no chance,’ Liz replied. ‘He has a first class honours in stress, and while he’s awake and breathing, he drinks. Looking back, I can scarcely remember an evening at home when he didn’t have a whisky tumbler in his hand. Hopeless.’

The nurse wrote something on a chart. ‘Aye. It’s a bugger, isn’t it, love? I married a boozer, but I soon got shut. He was more pickled than a jar of silverskin onions, and nasty with it. He came home one night, put the chip pan on, forgot, fell asleep and burned my house down. I was on nights, fortunately. They got him out. The insurance covered the mess, but I wasn’t insured against him, was I? So I got rid. Of him and the chip pan.’ She left the room.

Lizzie stared down at the creature on the bed. This used to be her father. This used to be the man who’d taken her and her brothers to Alton Towers, to Blackpool, Southport, the Lake District, Florida, France, Italy and Spain. Mother had just tagged along like a nanny, while he had provided all the entertainment. ‘Mother read a lot,’ she said to the figure and all his machines. ‘She stood back and let you take the credit for all of it. But Paul and Mike weren’t taken in. They knew she was head and shoulders above you. But I love you. I shall always, always love you. Silly man. You have to wake eventually. You have to face up to what’s happening, Daddy.’

Being a woman wasn’t easy. The first man in a girl’s life was eternally forgivable, but suitors and husbands weren’t. ‘If a man treated me like you treated her, I’d be in jail ten times over.’ She was starting to think deeply about her mother for the first time ever. How had she coped? How had she kept all that anger inside, all that frustration so well hidden? And why had she taken all the money, why had she mortgaged a house so precious to her? It was all so . . . extraordinary.

‘Have you been telling us lies, Daddy?’ she asked.

A light came on, and a loud, continuous note sounded. Lizzie found herself out in the corridor. The crash trolley was rolled in, and staff shouted orders like ‘Clear’, and ‘Charging to two hundred’. They were bringing him back. Well, they were trying to. The child in Lizzie sat with a bunched fist pushed against her mouth, because she would not scream. Brave little girls didn’t scream when in hospital, at the dentist’s, at the doctor’s surgery. ‘Don’t leave me, Daddy. Please don’t go.’

The plain-spoken nurse appeared. She looked hot, as if she had been in a Turkish bath. ‘He’s back, love. Go home. Get some sleep.’

‘I can’t,’ she replied. ‘I just can’t do that.’

The nurse sat down next to Lizzie. ‘Your brother didn’t stay long.’

‘No.’ Liz inhaled deeply. ‘He’s one of a pair of identical twins. The other one fell into a river – he’s in the Countess of Chester.’

‘Bloody hell! More than your fair share of trouble, then. And your mam? Where’s she?’

‘No idea, but if she’s heard about what’s happened she’s probably at the Countess of Chester with Paul and Mike. She ran away, you see. Just upped and offed with her clothes and every penny in the bank. No warning. It was like a magic trick but without the smoke.’

‘I don’t blame her. I told you what happened to me, eh? Women don’t bolt unless they’re pushed into it. You’ve got to start thinking about it from her point of view, love. Your dad will either live or die. He’s committing slow suicide. She’s probably wanting some space for thought, a break while she starts divorce proceedings.’

‘Divorce?’

‘Aye. She’s gone to start a new life, sweetie. Some women just go – they need to get away
from
whatever. They go when they’re in the middle of making dinner, ironing, washing or some such drudgery. Usually younger than your mam, though. Mid-forties, is she?’

Liz nodded.

‘So she’s not running
from,
she’s running
towards
. But I’ll bet you a pound to a penny she thinks she’s run away rather than towards.’

‘Towards what?’

The nurse shrugged. ‘If she’s thought on this for a while, and if she’s taken money, she’ll be after a new start. Without realizing it, she’s gone for a fresh beginning. I reckon your dad’s behaviour has been like water dripping on stone. It takes a while, but the stone starts to get affected. Your mam was being worn down bit by bit, you see.’

Alone once more, Liz went outside to try to reach Mike on his mobile. He answered. ‘Lizzie, Paul’s all right.’

‘Is Mother with him?’

‘Yes. She’s been given a mattress to lie on, and she’s taking him home tomorrow. Well, home to her new place.’

‘Where?’

‘Liverpool.’

‘Oh. And where are you?’

‘Standing right behind you.’

She turned and punched him playfully. ‘So you’ve brought my car back, at least.’

‘And how’s the real invalid, Lizzie?’

‘He died again, and they brought him back again.’ She paused and put away her phone. ‘Somewhere along the line, a huge amount of truth has gone for a walk. She’s protected us, and in doing so she’s protected him. Well, something like that.’

It was plain that Lizzie was coming round to her brothers’ way of thinking. ‘You’ve been aware all along,’ said Mike. ‘But your daddy made you into a princess, and that blinded you. I know you’re not a lot younger than us, but we’ve been privileged, because we each had the other to talk to. We worked him out a while back. He uses cheap labour and cheap materials. When the houses start to fall down, he’ll wish he had died, because there’ll be a lot of people on his tail.’

‘That’s horrible, Mike. We don’t want him to die. Do we?’

He shook his head. ‘But we want Mums to survive. He’s been drinking her life blood along with his Scotch for long enough. I know now, Lizzie. Mums and I went for a coffee, and she told me. Everything. She was her usual self, no anger, no resentment. The facts are plain. He stole every penny left by the Gramps. He acted exactly how they had expected him to act when they warned her not to marry him.’